Later this month, Diablo IV's ongoing Hatred Saga comes to a close with the release of its second expansion, Lord of Hatred. Set in the ancient island region of Skovos, the upcoming DLC digs deep into Diablo's past while setting a course for the series' future, though what that future might look like remains unclear. What is clear, however, is this final showdown between you, Lilith, and the Lord of Hatred himself, Mephisto, will forever change the shape of Sanctuary.
But before we delve into the series' future, Blizzard has opted to give us a deeper look into Sanctuary's past with the upcoming novel The Lost Horadrim. Written by Matthew J. Kirby, The Lost Horadrim follows Diablo IV fan-favorite character Lorath and Captain Adreona of the Amazons as the pair embark on an adventure across Skovos. With its promises of intense political conflict, lots of lore and plenty of mythical monsters and undead abominations to slay, The Lost Horadrim has been high up on our list of most anticipated reads for quite some time. Fortunately for us, we recently got the opportunity to read an excerpt from the book ahead of its release--and now, we get the chance to share a snippet of Kirby's atmospheric writing it with you.
To set the scene for readers, the author provided the following context: Donan journeys across Skovos in search of information regarding a lost expedition of Horadrim. But the seer he encounters may tell him more about himself than his brethren.
THE building was a towering rotunda set against the base of a solid rock escarpment, its domed roof clad in slate shingles cut in the shape of reptilian scales. The outer stonework had been chiseled to resemble the stacked coils of a serpent, with its head and gaping mouth forming the entrance to the shrine’s interior. Donan approached the doorway but stopped himself before going inside, feeling vaguely apprehensive.
He almost turned away, but suddenly a bent old woman stood before him, draped in layers of fine muslin robes. Beneath her headdress, a veil covered most of her face, but the skin around her eyes appeared wrinkled and ancient. She seemed to emanate an uncanny presence that Donan found both frightening and intriguing. She fit the description he had read of the seers, which claimed that to gain the gift of foresight, initiates sacrificed parts of their own bodies. He wondered what kind of disfigurement lay concealed beneath the woman’s shroud.
“I am the Keeper of the Fang,” she said, her voice creaking like aged leather and somewhat muffled by her veil. “I bid you welcome.”
Donan bowed his head. “Thank you.”
“You have come seeking your path?”
“I seek the seers,” Donan said.
“You have found one. Come.” She waved him toward her and went back inside the rotunda.
Donan took one last look at his surroundings. From somewhere nearby, he heard the evening churring of a nightjar, but he detected no sign of any other person near the shrine.
Inside the rotunda, he found a clean dwelling lit by oil lamps. Heavy chairs of olive wood surrounded an altar hewn from marble, on which sat a stack of bowls and a mortar and pestle. A wooden screen offered privacy for a part of the chamber, around which Donan could see the corner of a bed. Bundles of dried flowers, herbs, and mushrooms festooned the rim where the walls met the dome overhead. Ghostly images could be seen across the ceiling, but the paint had flaked and faded away until little remained but faint vestiges. A spring-fed fountain gurgled into a pool on the far side of the chamber, set into the wall below a mosaic depicting the all-seeing eye. Next to it, an iron door appeared to lead deeper into the mountain.
The woman grunted as she eased herself into one of the chairs. “Would you like to begin?” she asked.
Donan stood where he was. “Begin what?”
“Your path. Every soul has one. If you would know the future, you must first understand your past.”
“Forgive me,” he said, “I didn’t actually come here seeking divination.”
She tipped her head a little. “Then why have you come?”
“I am . . . a scholar,” he said. “I’m searching for a group of my colleagues. They came to Skovos some years ago.”
“Scholars, you say?”
“Yes. It is possible they made contact with the seers. They may have even spoken with your queen.”
“If you wish to stand before our queen and speak with her, you need only walk the path before you.”
Donan sat down in the chair opposite her. “Perhaps my associates came to this shrine. They would have been led by a woman named Sho-Ren. She was a mage from Xiansai. Do you remember her?”
“Alas, I do not,” she said. “But I am young, and I have not been serving as the Keeper of the Fang for very long.”
“Young?” Donan said before checking his surprise. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“I take no offense,” the seer said. “I would guess I am not much older than you.”
“But—”
“Our gift of foresight is received by exchange of our own vitality. Our lives and our bodies become sacred offerings.”
Despite Donan’s desire to be respectful of her, he now felt a powerful curiosity to see beneath her shroud, which he did his best to suppress. “Would I be able to speak with the Keeper who served before you?”
“I am afraid her eyes are shut.”
Donan assumed that phrase to mean the previous seer had died. “Then I suppose I must speak with your queen, if I may. And that means I must walk a path?”
She inclined her head in agreement.
“Your journey begins here, at the mouth of the serpent, and it ends in the belly. It will not be easy for you.”
Donan assumed the path involved more than simply walking a road like the one that had brought him to the shrine. “What must I do?” he asked.
She folded her hands in her lap. “You must be bitten and swallowed by the serpent.”
“That sounds . . . uncomfortable.”
“For many,” she said, “the process is unbearable.”
“Then what happens?”
“The Serpent will show you your past.” Donan had always preferred to leave the ground behind him undisturbed; he could do nothing to change the past, and therefore it served no purpose to revisit and dwell on it.
“Have you walked this path?” he asked.
“I have not. Initiate seers make a different pilgrimage.”
Donan looked toward the exit, out into the twilight, and contemplated leaving the shrine. After all, he had no evidence the previous Horadrim had come this way. He had no confirmation they had even set foot on Philios. He wondered if time wasted on this mysterious path would be better spent searching elsewhere, but even as he considered that notion, he recognized it as an expression of his fear, not his intuition.
Matthew J. Kirby's The Lost Horadrim hits shelves and digital storefronts on April 21. Diablo 4: Lord of Hatred launches a week later, on April 28.
Source
But before we delve into the series' future, Blizzard has opted to give us a deeper look into Sanctuary's past with the upcoming novel The Lost Horadrim. Written by Matthew J. Kirby, The Lost Horadrim follows Diablo IV fan-favorite character Lorath and Captain Adreona of the Amazons as the pair embark on an adventure across Skovos. With its promises of intense political conflict, lots of lore and plenty of mythical monsters and undead abominations to slay, The Lost Horadrim has been high up on our list of most anticipated reads for quite some time. Fortunately for us, we recently got the opportunity to read an excerpt from the book ahead of its release--and now, we get the chance to share a snippet of Kirby's atmospheric writing it with you.
To set the scene for readers, the author provided the following context: Donan journeys across Skovos in search of information regarding a lost expedition of Horadrim. But the seer he encounters may tell him more about himself than his brethren.
THE building was a towering rotunda set against the base of a solid rock escarpment, its domed roof clad in slate shingles cut in the shape of reptilian scales. The outer stonework had been chiseled to resemble the stacked coils of a serpent, with its head and gaping mouth forming the entrance to the shrine’s interior. Donan approached the doorway but stopped himself before going inside, feeling vaguely apprehensive.
He almost turned away, but suddenly a bent old woman stood before him, draped in layers of fine muslin robes. Beneath her headdress, a veil covered most of her face, but the skin around her eyes appeared wrinkled and ancient. She seemed to emanate an uncanny presence that Donan found both frightening and intriguing. She fit the description he had read of the seers, which claimed that to gain the gift of foresight, initiates sacrificed parts of their own bodies. He wondered what kind of disfigurement lay concealed beneath the woman’s shroud.
“I am the Keeper of the Fang,” she said, her voice creaking like aged leather and somewhat muffled by her veil. “I bid you welcome.”
Donan bowed his head. “Thank you.”
“You have come seeking your path?”
“I seek the seers,” Donan said.
“You have found one. Come.” She waved him toward her and went back inside the rotunda.
Donan took one last look at his surroundings. From somewhere nearby, he heard the evening churring of a nightjar, but he detected no sign of any other person near the shrine.
Inside the rotunda, he found a clean dwelling lit by oil lamps. Heavy chairs of olive wood surrounded an altar hewn from marble, on which sat a stack of bowls and a mortar and pestle. A wooden screen offered privacy for a part of the chamber, around which Donan could see the corner of a bed. Bundles of dried flowers, herbs, and mushrooms festooned the rim where the walls met the dome overhead. Ghostly images could be seen across the ceiling, but the paint had flaked and faded away until little remained but faint vestiges. A spring-fed fountain gurgled into a pool on the far side of the chamber, set into the wall below a mosaic depicting the all-seeing eye. Next to it, an iron door appeared to lead deeper into the mountain.
The woman grunted as she eased herself into one of the chairs. “Would you like to begin?” she asked.
Donan stood where he was. “Begin what?”
“Your path. Every soul has one. If you would know the future, you must first understand your past.”
“Forgive me,” he said, “I didn’t actually come here seeking divination.”
She tipped her head a little. “Then why have you come?”
“I am . . . a scholar,” he said. “I’m searching for a group of my colleagues. They came to Skovos some years ago.”
“Scholars, you say?”
“Yes. It is possible they made contact with the seers. They may have even spoken with your queen.”
“If you wish to stand before our queen and speak with her, you need only walk the path before you.”
Donan sat down in the chair opposite her. “Perhaps my associates came to this shrine. They would have been led by a woman named Sho-Ren. She was a mage from Xiansai. Do you remember her?”
“Alas, I do not,” she said. “But I am young, and I have not been serving as the Keeper of the Fang for very long.”
“Young?” Donan said before checking his surprise. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean—”
“I take no offense,” the seer said. “I would guess I am not much older than you.”
“But—”
“Our gift of foresight is received by exchange of our own vitality. Our lives and our bodies become sacred offerings.”
Despite Donan’s desire to be respectful of her, he now felt a powerful curiosity to see beneath her shroud, which he did his best to suppress. “Would I be able to speak with the Keeper who served before you?”
“I am afraid her eyes are shut.”
Donan assumed that phrase to mean the previous seer had died. “Then I suppose I must speak with your queen, if I may. And that means I must walk a path?”
She inclined her head in agreement.
“Your journey begins here, at the mouth of the serpent, and it ends in the belly. It will not be easy for you.”
Donan assumed the path involved more than simply walking a road like the one that had brought him to the shrine. “What must I do?” he asked.
She folded her hands in her lap. “You must be bitten and swallowed by the serpent.”
“That sounds . . . uncomfortable.”
“For many,” she said, “the process is unbearable.”
“Then what happens?”
“The Serpent will show you your past.” Donan had always preferred to leave the ground behind him undisturbed; he could do nothing to change the past, and therefore it served no purpose to revisit and dwell on it.
“Have you walked this path?” he asked.
“I have not. Initiate seers make a different pilgrimage.”
Donan looked toward the exit, out into the twilight, and contemplated leaving the shrine. After all, he had no evidence the previous Horadrim had come this way. He had no confirmation they had even set foot on Philios. He wondered if time wasted on this mysterious path would be better spent searching elsewhere, but even as he considered that notion, he recognized it as an expression of his fear, not his intuition.
Matthew J. Kirby's The Lost Horadrim hits shelves and digital storefronts on April 21. Diablo 4: Lord of Hatred launches a week later, on April 28.
Source